


Generals

by mattzerella_sticks



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, Star Wars the Rise of the Skywalkers
Genre: Beginnings, Celebrations, Endings, Fix-It, Force-Sensitive Finn (Star Wars), Gay Poe Dameron, Jealous Finn, Jealous Poe Dameron, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining Poe Dameron, Post-Canon Fix-It, Unstraightwashing of Poe Dameron
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:41:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21930865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mattzerella_sticks/pseuds/mattzerella_sticks
Summary: With the First Order defeated, what's there to do now? Parties can't last forever... and when the music stops, someone has to know what the morning will look like. Someone like the General.There are many options presented with the threat of the First Order hanging over their heads gone. Poe doesn't know where they will begin, he only knows who he wants by his side. But he's not ready. Especially when he stumbles upon the very person, hiding where Poe wanted to be by himself so he can think.Maybe Finn can help?
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Finn
Comments: 12
Kudos: 257





	Generals

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I saw TRoS. Yes, I was angered by what they did to my boy Poe.
> 
> Yes, I'm here to fix-it.
> 
> Been trying to get this done all weekend, finally got it tho lol. Enjoy!

Cheers of celebration lessen the further Poe removes himself from the group. He staggers past a group of pilots passing a bottle around. A hand shoots out to offer him a sip. Poe turns them down, ignoring their calls to instead find a tiny corner of solitude.

Tugging a curtain to the side, he expects no one to be sitting in the small room. Finn surprises him, looking up from his lap. “Poe?”

“Finn?” he asks, “Buddy… what are you doing here?”

He shrugs, fiddling with his thumbs. “Wanted to get away for a bit…” Finn says, “What about you?”

“Same reason,” Poe says, sitting across from him on an upturned crate. “The adrenaline rush from destroying an entire fleet of the strongest ships imaginable can only last so long.”

“I’ll say…”

They lapse into silence, an uncommon sight for Leia’s inheritor. Except it’s not. Because Finn always has this ability to make silence feel cozy rather than cramped. Words only getting in the way of slight dips in the brow and minute twitches of grins. Poe stretches, his boots brushing against Finn’s legs. His fellow general doesn’t startle, used to the light touch. Tempered after countless shared moments, accustomed to the way Poe’s body drifts towards him like an asteroid caught under the intense pressures of orbit.

Finn spreads his hands flat against his thighs and sucks in a sharp breath. “Poe,” he starts, shattering through the quiet, “can I tell you something?”

His foot digs into Finn’s calf, startled by the question. When the other man shifts, spreads his legs, Poe pulls back. Apologizes, “Of course you can.”

Another beat passes between them while Finn shifts his next sentence in his mouth. Anticipation ballooning until the first sharp letter passes between his lips and bursts it. “You’re sure?”

Poe nods, doubt chewing on his heart. “You can tell me anything,” he says, a memory sparking to life while Finn continues stalling, “unless… you don’t want to tell me in the first place?” A flash of  _ something _ flits across Finn’s gaze, too fast to hide it from him. “This is about Pasaana, isn’t it?”

“Poe -”

“Y’know,” he stands, sniffing, thumb dashing across his upper lip, “I think I saw Rey hole up in the - in the Millenium Falcon. If you want, I can go get her -” Poe cuts off, a warm cuff locked around his wrist.

Finn rose to meet him, holding on tight. A thunderstorm pounds in his chest from the serious expression turned towards him. So loud he’s afraid it’ll drown Finn’s message. Thankfully his friend’s voice overpowers his own nerves. “I’ll tell Rey,” he says, “in my own time. But I… I want you to know, too.”

“You…” Poe swallows past the nerves, “you do?”

“Yes.”

“To… practice?”

Seriousness fades into confusion, “Practice what?”

“Your - your confession,” Poe guesses, “That… that’s what you wanted to tell her, right?”

In the midst of blaster fire, Finn’s face remains calm. Charging into a horde of enemies, it’s courageous. Hidden in a room with only two of them, however, a faint red dust his cheeks. Reminds him of the fields of Crait. Of miracles and luck and hope.

“It’s not a confession?”

“I thought I wouldn’t have to repeat myself,” Finn mutters, “I told you once… Rey and I we’re - it’s not like that.”

“But,” Poe, a man reliant on risk, won’t allow himself to jump on this one. Not yet. “But the way you said it, the urgency -”

“I panicked,” Finn says, “I had only recently realized it and, well - I wanted to tell Rey. Get her opinion. And when you’re about to die, I guess everything sounds like it’s the most important words ever spoken in the history of the galaxy.”

“You guess?”

“Hindsight,” Finn shrugs. It’s a lousy excuse. Enough of one, though, that Poe allows Finn to guide him to his seat.

“Finn,” Poe prompts him, “what is it you wanted to say?”

Finn’s mouth opens, an unnecessary step to draw Poe’s stare. Flaps silently, nothing surging forth. Suddenly it snaps closed, and Poe tears himself away to see the crease in his brows.

His hand creeps forward and slips over Finn’s, still on his wrist. Squeezes it while smiling. “You can do it,” he urges, “like ripping off bacta tubes, just go for it. No hesitation -”

“I think I have the force!”

Poe falters, Finn once more catching him off guard. “You… you’re…?”

“Or, really,” his lips twisted up in a giddy grin, wrung like a wrinkled scarf, “force- _ sensitive _ .”

“Force… sensitive -”

“This is why I wanted to bring it up to Rey,” Finn sighs, “She was going through the training, so I thought she could give me one or two pointers - a test maybe - to see if my suspicions were correct.”

Poe feels an ache rattling in his skull, reminiscent of hurtling towards the ground with busted engines and undeployable landing gear. “If you thought you were force sensitive,” he starts, “why not bring this up with Leia?”

Finn dims, fingers shifting against his skin. “She already had enough on her plate with leading the Resistance and then training Rey… I didn’t want to waste her time in the chance I  _ wasn’t _ -”

“It wouldn’t be a waste,” Poe says, unprompted. “ _ You’re _ not a waste.”

The other man blinks at him, reeled back into silence. Poe flusters, aware of the raw tone his voice took during his outburst. His eyes dip down to their hands, gently rubbing Finn’s. Delighting in how soft it is even though they should be rough and covered in calluses like Poe’s. Like everyone who clawed their way up from the heavy hole the First Order tried to shove them into.

“Thank you,” Finn says, smiling again, “I… yeah.”

“Yeah…” Poe chuckles awkwardly, removing his hand to run it through sweat-heavy curls. “You’re probably wishing you started off with Rey after all, I… I really got nothing.”

“What you had was perfect,” he tells Poe, “better than when we were  _ on _ Pasaana.”

Poe purses his lips, the ache doubling. “Well, on Pasaana you had this  _ huge thing _ you wanted only  _ Rey _ to know, and I was -”

“Jealous?”

“ _ Concerned _ .”

“Sorry for worrying you, then,” Finn teases, leaning forward briefly only to recede like the tide. Poe follows, stopping short of falling off his crate. “You don’t have to, though. Not all the time.”

He scoffs. “It ain’t that easy, Finn. There’s no switch I can turn off that will make me care about you any less.” Poe knows from experience. Hours kept up, working under the hood of his ship. Muscle memory taking control while he tried to find any flaw in the marble statue of Finn he built in his mind. Each one he finds has the opposite effect, and only makes him cherish his  _ now-general  _ more.

“I guess we have the same problem, then,” Finn says, playing with his hands again. Poe didn’t notice he was free. “Like, when we were on Kijimi -”

Poe groans, “Don’t bring up Kajimi -”

“And your, uh…  _ friend _ of yours,” Finn’s voice dips at the mention of Zorri, “exposed your past as a  _ spice smuggler _ -”

“I wasn’t a spice smuggler!”

“You seemed to know your way around Kajimi -”

“It was for a mission!”

Finn quiets at Poe’s declaration, smile fading. “A… a mission?”

Now his turn, Poe dredges up the memories he long pushed to the depths of his memory. “It was back when I started out with the Resistance, I didn’t have much besides my spunk, my skills and - uh… a very important  _ jacket. _ ” Finn softens at the mention of their jacket, absent-mindedly fiddling with his vest. “Anyway, Leia needed someone the First Order didn’t know about. Who could sneak into a spice smuggling gang to find someone without ruffling any feathers.”

“Who did she want you to find?”

“Han,” Poe says, “she needed Han.”

“Han Solo?” Finn asks.

“The one and only.”

“Why did she need him then?”

“I never did find out,” Poe shrugs, “A few months into my mission, I ended up taking too big a bite and nearly blew my cover. Had to dip and… you saw how I left things.”

“Yeah,” Finn nods, “Surprised Zorri let you live given the greeting she gave you. In fact…” his friend pouts, rubbing his wrists. “It seemed like the two of you got along…  _ really well _ .”

“She was the only one who vouched for me, showed me the ropes,” he tells him, “I… I felt bad when I had to leave so suddenly. We’d gotten really close the short time I ran with their gang.” A wry smile appears, urged on by the past. “Over drinks or long shifts guarding crates of imports, we’d share a lot. One of the last nights I was there, Zorri had a little too much and told me how ournext job would be her last. Enough of a cut for her to start on a different planet, and be someone other than a smuggler. She… she also asked if I wanted to come with her then, too.”

“You didn’t?”

“Messing that job hurt, knowing it put her back at square one,” Poe says, “but if I let it go through I wouldn’t be here now.”

Finn sighs, scrubbing his cheeks. “Not like it didn’t work out in the end. Zorri can go anywhere she wants, and with the First Order gone… so can you.”

Dourness weighs heavy on his cheeks, wiping his smile away. Poe studies his general across from him. The sullen air floating around, casting him in a depressing light. Like the idea of Poe running off with Zorri crippled him worse than any injury.

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“Hmm?”

“I, um...” Poe continues, biting his lip, “As much as Zorri would like having me around, I doubt it’d ever work.”

“No,” Finn shakes his head, “didn’t you notice the way she’d look at you, when you weren’t looking?”

“I noticed,” Poe chuckles, “it hasn’t changed… not even after all the trouble I put her through.”

“And that’s the problem?”

“When I can never give her what she wants,” he sighs, “it is.” The night he dragged her to her quarters becomes clearer, the weight of her unruly body heavy across his shoulders. Even as she mingles with the crowd yards away. Like she never left.

“But we could,” she slurred, helmet gone and her bangs plastered to her cheeks from the rain, “the two of us, in the outer rims. Starting a  _ farm _ …”

“I don’t know anything about farms.”

“Neither do I… but we can learn,” She grabbed his wrist, trapping him in a vice that  _ felt _ like one. Young Poe didn’t know of a touch that wasn’t claustrophobic. That tried to slow him down. Wouldn’t experience the opposite for even longer. “Please, Poe, we only need each other…”

“Need’s… a little  _ strong _ .”

“Then you don’t think we should kiss?”

Poe opened her door, showing Zorri to her bed. “Next time we see each other, we’ll kiss.”

Zorri fell asleep, thankfully not hearing his promise. Always one to tempt, Poe played a bad hand. Curious to see if she’d raise or fold. He thought her mask was on tight, but the splinter of vulnerability she showed when they watched for First Order made him question earlier suspicions. While her offer stood, Zorri didn’t take the bait.

“I’ve got too much to do here, anyway,” Poe continues, “First Order might be over but the galaxy still isn’t on its feet. We might no longer be fighting… but people need leaders stepping up. Not running away to hang up their blasters somewhere on the outer rim. Playing at a happy ending that doesn’t fit them.”

Finn stares up at him, Poe somehow jumping to his feet during the impassioned response. Frown marring his gorgeous face. “We all deserve happy endings, Poe,” he says, “You don’t have to throw it away for the galaxy.”

Poe relaxes, reaching forward and laying a hand on Finn’s shoulder. “In time, I will. Until then…” He coughs, tensing briefly before drawing his hand close. Finn’s body scalding to the touch. “Until then I have a lot to do.  _ We  _ have a lot to do,  _ general _ .”

“ _ General _ ,” Finn repeats, returning to a brighter expression, “Yeah… I wouldn’t want to give that title up anytime soon.”

“Exactly,” Poe says, helping him up, “If we left, who would be there to general...ise?”

“Well there’s Rose -”

“Wait… maybe the Resistance doesn’t need us then?”

“You’re not getting out of it this easy, man,” Finn chuckles, “Rose might be able to do this on her own, doesn’t mean she has to. Besides… she’ll need help reintegrating former Stormtroopers into civilian life.”

Poe raises his brows, “We’re doing that?”

Bashfully, Finn shrugs. “If there was me and Janna and her whole squadron… then there were bound to be others,” he explains, “whether they’ve hidden themselves or escaped in the First Order’s final moments… there’s a lot of trauma under those shiny, white suits. We’re bonded -  _ family _ . I want to show as many as I can that there’s a better way.”

He marvels at his friend, jaw slack. Seconds stretch into eons with how powerful his chest rattles from another incoming surge of  _ something  _ he will not name . Won't give a name, because then it's real. When his senses return, Poe finds Finn meeting his gaze. A question burning in his warm, brown gaze. The color of leather on a worn jacket, stitched together with love.

Poe smothers the possibility in a hug, burying his face in the other man’s neck. “I’ll be by your side through it, buddy,” he says, “through it all.”

Slowly, Finn’s arms wrap around his. Their heads knocked together, and Poe hears a breathy puff escape by his ears. “That’s how I want it.”

Anyone can find them. The generals of the Resistance, missing from the festivities. Not celebrating the end of an era long overdue.

Except, in their own way, they are. Poe doesn’t need drinks or music or a group of people knocking into him over and over again. He doesn’t need a farm somewhere on the outer rim. It’s Finn, in his arms, in this tiny room. It always has been. It’s all he’ll ever need.

“Did you say something Poe?”

“Hmm?” Poe rocks on his heels, “No, no I didn’t.”

“Funny,” Finn says, lips brushing against his cheeks, “I thought you said something… something about  _ me _ …”

**Author's Note:**

> What'd you think? Let me know by dropping a kudos/comment below!


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